


Why

by kscribbles



Category: Fright Night (2011)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-08
Updated: 2012-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-29 05:26:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kscribbles/pseuds/kscribbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt:A take-off of Ianto's conversation about Jack in Torchwood Children of Earth: "It's not men, it's just him." How would our two vampire hunters define their relationship?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the lj community FrightNight2011's kinkmeme: http://frightnight2011.livejournal.com/718.html

He's standing in the doorway of Peter's kitchen. He is going to be late for class, but that doesn’t motivate him to move. He had been hurriedly wolfing down some cereal, but he's set it on the table now, entranced by watching Peter putter around the kitchen, making coffee, toasting bread. All perfectly ordinary. Like they hadn't killed yet another vampire last night (seriously when were Jerry's friends going to stop coming out of the woodwork, seeking revenge?), like they hadn't fucked 6 hours ago on black satin sheets.

Charley shifts a little uncomfortably.

“I don't get it,” he says.

“What's that?” Peter asks, looking up from stirring sugar into his cup.

“I don't…” he clears his throat, not sure he wants to get into this. But goes on, anyway. “I don’t like guys.”

“No?” Peter sounds only mildly curious.

“I mean, I don't think about them. I don't see a dude walking down the street and think, hey I'd like to fuck that guy. I never have. I like _girls_.”

“So do I.”

“I like _fucking_ girls.” Okay, so he's only fucked one, but he loves it. A lot.

“So do I,” Peter says again, patiently, waiting for Charley to get to the point.

“I see girls, and I think... things. Nice ass, I'd like to come on her tits. You know, stuff like that. I love having sex with Amy. I think about fucking Amy when she's not around.”

“So do I.” Peter's eyes twinkle, amused.

“Watch it,” Charley warns, laughing a little before sobering again.

“So what's the problem?” Peter asks, coming around the kitchen bar and leaning against it, slowly sipping his coffee.

“The problem? I mean, what…? So why…?” He struggles for words, needing a reason, a definition; this should make sense, and it doesn’t.

“Why what?”

Charley shakes his head, walks across the kitchen and takes Peter’s hand, the one that’s not holding coffee, and puts it over the crotch of his jeans.

“Why does watching you make coffee get me hard?”

Peter presses down and Charley sighs, closing his eyes. He hears the thunk of the coffee mug hitting the counter.

“Oh I could give you a reason,” Peter breathes before he flicks the button, lowers the zipper and takes Charley’s cock out, running his hand slowly along it. “But I don't think you'll like it.”

A four-letter word flits through his mind. Two of them do, actually. Only one of them is _fuck_. A rustle of clothing, another soft thud and then Peter’s long fingers are on his hips and a warm, wet mouth is taking him in, sucking, and moving, and drawing helpless noises from Charley. How does Peter reduce him to this, so quickly, so completely?

Peter pauses a moment. “It’s because I’m so pretty.”

Charley makes a strangled noise half-laugh, half- _please-don’t-stop_.

“Maybe,” Peter continues, and he’s serious now, “It’s because we could die tonight. Or tomorrow. Maybe there’s no earthly reason you shouldn’t. Why _we_ shouldn’t.”

His lips surround him again and with one hand clutching the cool granite counter top, and the other fisted in Peter’s soft, dark hair, Charley comes, hard. He finally opens his eyes to see Peter swallow the last of it down.

Peter stands, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before turning Charley so that his other hand is on the countertop too. “Stay. Right. There,” Peter commands.

Charley sags against the cool surface, grateful for its support. Before he can take a handful of deep breaths, before the fog of orgasm clears from his mind, Peter is back, standing behind him. Long fingers push up his shirt, scratch across his chest, making his breath hitch and a low tingle begins all over again.

Peter pushes his legs further apart and Charley feels him there, hot hard cock behind the condom, slowly slipping in.

“Do we need them, Charley? Reasons?” Peter asks when he’s inside. “D’you want a _definition_?” His teeth are gritted, he sounds a little angry, but Charley thinks maybe he’s just trying not to come.

“I don’t… I don’t know…” he groans at the maddeningly slow rhythm.

Peter makes a noise, something like disbelief, and he bites down a little on Charley’s shoulder through the t-shirt, the other man’s hips pushing him a little too hard into the counter as he comes.

Peter breathes heavily against his back for a moment before pulling away. Charley turns around slowly, watching this man, who is, against all laws of reason, his best friend and his lover, and he’s cleaning up after sex. Ordinary—like toast and coffee—and it’s all a little impossible because he’s in a Las Vegas Penthouse, and last night they killed a vampire. Again.

“It isn’t guys,” Charley says, feeling the truth of the words settle like a comforting weight against his chest. “And it isn’t because we could die.” Peter’s dark eyes flick sharply to his at that before Charley continues. “It’s just… _you_.”

 

FIN


End file.
